


Spring's Discord

by coolchica87



Series: Winter's Thaw [2]
Category: A Song of Ice and Fire - George R. R. Martin, Game of Thrones (TV)
Genre: F/M, M/M
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2018-10-21
Updated: 2018-10-30
Packaged: 2019-08-05 04:50:40
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 2
Words: 4,140
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/16361144
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/coolchica87/pseuds/coolchica87
Summary: Arya and Gendry are happily married, living contentedly in Winterfell with their spirited daughter. At the worst possible time, Daenerys calls a summit amongst the remaining Great Houses to discuss a lasting truce, offering up Winterfell as the center of negotiations and Arya as host and peacemaker. But it won’t be easy amongst the squabbling of petty lords, the advances of an ex-lover, and the threats from an unknown adversary.





	1. Spring's Discord

**Author's Note:**

> A Sequel to Winter's Thaw. You'll probably understand without having read the first though. But, why wouldn't you? More Gendrya!

Arya

 

She was still having trouble getting used to the warm weather, the various colors of wildflowers, and the blue blue skies year-round in Winterfell. It seemed her family’s words were no longer relevant.

 

_Winter is coming._

 

No, it wasn’t. It had already come and gone. The Maesters had officially declared it Spring. Perhaps they could adopt new words now.

 

“My Lady, what would you have me do with the sheets?” A servant asks, nose scrunched in disgust. Arya looks up from her reverie to peruse the sheets in question. Soiled. Ruined.

 

“Burn them.” She advises, and the woman nods grimly.

 

Winterfell was finally free of guests. She was more than glad to have her home back.

 

Mostly, they kept to themselves in Winterfell, safe and sound behind the walls. They were very careful as to who was let in. She preferred it that way. Arya had learned her lesson well. Arya kept her own family safe at all costs.

 

But many many new people had come to settle in the now temperate North in the surrounding districts, and she still had her duties. Now every three moons, they hosted a gathering. Those with serious requests, disputes that could not be settled, and crimes they needed sentencing for would attend. She never quite looked forward to the chore, but she understood the importance. It was a duty of the Warden of Winterfell. She was the authority in the North. And all knew it. She was not questioned. The fate of the Boltons saw to that.

 

Everyone knew.

 

But no one spoke of it. She made sure of that as well.

 

She and Gendry had wiped out the entire line. The women and children spared could no longer claim the name Bolton and live. The Starks were once again the voice and muscle of the North.

 

And over time, the gatherings had become a joyous affair. For a week, the town outside of Winterfell’s gates was packed to the brim with musicians, actors, exotic food vendors, storytellers, new age healers, and all manner of entertainers. It was truly wondrous, the North was finally reborn. They’d developed a reputation for fairness. That, coupled with the more moderate weather and open land, had drawn newcomers by the droves. The North was prospering, and Winterfell was at the center. She was proud.

 

But she was happiest when the travelers went home and the land was peaceful once more. If she had it her way, it would only be the three of them at all times.

 

After all these years, Arya could honestly say she was blissfully happy. She and Gendry were perfect together. Once she’d let him in, she’d been able to relax somewhat. She trusted in their bond and their love. He’d long since stopped attending the hearings and the meetings, stopped reading the paperwork and the political correspondence. But he listened when she was troubled or torn, held her when she needed it, and made love to her till she no longer cared about petty squabbles. He told her every day how he loved her and worshipped her. And she made sure he knew it back.

 

And Alanna was a true miracle. Every minute of every day she thanked the Gods for gifting her with a child. There was a time when she believed she would never have one. Alanna was smart as anything. Always curious. Beautiful like her grandmother, auburn hair with Arya’s own grey eyes. She was kind and easy with a smile, a little lady through and through.

 

In short, Arya could not find common ground with her.

 

As a babe, Mother and daughter were inseparable. She had taken joy in finding out what foods her daughter liked best, hearing Alanna’s first words, and introducing her to the horses.

 

But one day, something had changed. Her daughter seemed personally offended at every correction, resentful of every lesson. Her daughter began to seek her out less and less, preferring her father’s company.

 

At times, she couldn’t understand her daughter at all, and Alanna made absolutely no effort to try to understand her. It hurt.

 

It made sense. At this age. And Arya was always busy with some emergency or another. She certainly wasn’t the warmest person. They did not have the closeness she would have liked.

 

Now, Gendry and Alanna were closer than two peas in a pod. She wasn’t jealous. Truly, she wasn’t. She had loved her own father more than anything, she still did. To have him taken away was the single hardest blow she had ever faced. It meant the world to her that her own daughter could know that same closeness. She gave a silent prayer that nothing ever got in the way of it.

 

Still…

 

There were so close when Alanna was born. Arya wouldn’t let her out of her sight for worry. She nursed her daughter from her own breast, changed her daughter’s shitty nappies, and rocked her when she cried. Arya helped teach her to read and write, to lace her boots, to eat pomegranates, and a thousand other things. She tried to teach her how to run a household, as her mother had done. And her daughter resented her for it. Maybe her mother was right about the curse. Arya herself had been unruly and hateful. This was just fair play.

 

But it didn’t feel like part of the curse.

 

It was her own fault. She shouldn’t have pushed so hard. She shouldn’t have focused on responsibility and propriety. But it was in her nature. Arya only knew how to be a Stark. And that gigantic burden would one day fall on Alanna, so Arya couldn’t let go. She couldn’t be as gentle as she would like. But at least she had Gendry. Gendry could be that for her. And Arya would have to be the practical one, the tough one. That was life. That was who she was after all. There was only so much she could soften.

 

After seeing to the last of the necessary arrangements, Arya made her way tiredly to her daughter’s room to check in.

 

Gendry was there of course. They were both giggling over shared jokes and imaginary adventures. They turn more serious upon noticing her there. Great, she was the sobering presence in the room.

 

“How was your day, Love?” Gendry asks, greeting her with a kiss to the top of her head.

 

“The usual.” She answers, then turns her attention to Alanna. “How was your day?”

 

“It was fine, mother.” She answers politely, tucked neatly into bed, fluffy nightgown peeking out of the covers, strawberry hair curled about the collar.

 

Fine?!?

 

Why was her daughter always so fucking polite? It drov her her mad.

 

She knew most parents were proud of things like that. But it made her feel 11 years old again, constantly disappointing her own mother.

 

“Fine? She’s better than fine.  Alanna’s learning about dividing or some such. I have no idea what that means. But she understands well enough. She’s a genius, ain’t she?” He smiles that full grin he gets when bragging about their daughter, and Alanna looks away embarrassed.

 

“Yes, of course, she is.” Arya agrees. “Perhaps you could show me later?” Arya offers, thinking they could bond over studying. She was quite good with numbers herself.

 

“You don’t have to do that. I understand. It’s boring.” Alanna is quick to interject. She plays with a strand of auburn hair, twirling it uneasily.

 

The last thing she wanted to do was make her daughter nervous.

 

Gendry looks at her with some pity.

 

Fuck that.

 

“Well goodnight. We’ve an early day tomorrow.” She adds the last in for good measure, squeezing her daughter’s foot through the covers, before leaving them to their gossiping.

 

It didn’t take long to wash the light make-up from her face and untie her braid. She was used to it now. She no longer employed many personal servants, preferring to look after herself. The brave and loyal women who’d helped her win the castle had been given lands and titles, living their own lives.

 

She spends more time cleaning her teeth, and then rubbing a softening cream on her hands, elbows, knees, and feet. She likes the feel.

 

Gendry enters quietly, and with barely a sound, comes behind her, helping rub the lotion onto her shoulders.

 

“Hi, Love.” He whispers into her ear, making her shiver as usual.

 

In the mirror she has time to study him. Still so handsome, maybe even more so. He kept his black hair short, and shaved his fast-growing beard every few days, keeping only a fine shadow of stubble on his chin at any one time. He’d grown into his frame more, finally comfortable in his place. He held himself with confidence, chose proper clothes, and smiled in a way that made your heart hurt.

 

She knew how lucky she was.

 

She pats the hand on her shoulder and offers a return smile, meeting his gaze in the mirror.

 

“I’m exhausted.” She admits before getting up and climbing into bed.

 

“Hmmm.” He agrees, joining her.

 

She blows out the candle beside her bed, getting herself comfortable beneath the sheets. When she turns to him he is still looking at her expectantly.

 

“Yeah?” She questions. His puppy dog look is different from his horny look.

 

“Don’t tell me you forgot.” He jokes.

 

Forgot what?

 

“No.” She fibs.

 

He chuckles good-naturedly.

 

“Of course.” He says.

 

“What is that supposed to mean?”

 

“You never remember these things, Arya.” He continues. “You forgot my birthday, Alanna’s, and the last few anniversaries.” He explains patiently.

 

“Our anniversary!” She exclaims. He gets this smug look on his face. He loved to lord things over her just as she did. They really shouldn’t still be this competitive.

 

“Yeah.”

 

“I...”

 

“It’s all right.” He placates her. He is really looking forward to dragging this out. “You’ve been busy. Just because I’ve been planning this for...” Asshole.

 

“I didn’t forget.” She insists.

 

He ignores this.

 

“I was going to wait until tomorrow.” He takes something from under the bed. “Happy Anniversary!” He says, waiting anxiously for her to open his present.

 

With a weary eye, she opens it.

 

Seeds.

 

What?

 

Seeds, seeds, and more seeds.

 

“Gendry, what?”

 

“You’re always talking about how annoying it is to order lemons and pumpkins and berries. I thought perhaps we could simply grow them here.” She was touched by the sentiment.

 

“But Gendry they don’t grow here. It’s warmer, sure. But hardly tropical like the South...”

 

“That’s why we’re building a Greenhouse, to grow whatever you like. I contacted some experts down South. It should be ready by next planting season.” He’s smiling so wide she thinks it might pop off his face.

 

“Gendry...” She seemed to have no words.

 

“Do you like it?” He asks.

 

“I love it! Thank you.” She kisses him all over his face. “Thank you. Thank you, thank you.” He chuckles

 

“You’re very welcome, Wife.” He kisses her back. “Happy Anniversary.”

 

“Thank you, Gendry, truly.” She inspects the seeds in her hand, feeling the grooves and edges.

 

“Even if you didn’t get me anything.” He gets in.

 

Asshole.

 

“We all forget sometimes.” He teases. “I just win at being married, that’s all.”

 

The truth was- she had not forgotten.

 

In fact, she had a present planned.

 

Only now, in the face of his teasing, after Alanna’s earlier sting, she didn’t feel ready yet.

 

“Okay, okay.” She cuts him off.

 

“I can’t help it. The day we met is ingrained in my memory.”

 

“Wait. Sorry. What did you say?” She clarifies.

 

“It’s just… I like to celebrate the memory. The day when my life changed forever and I met the love of my life.”

 

She cackles, evilly. And suddenly, his joy turns to suspicion.

 

“The day we met?” She prods.

 

“Yes. We met today, and married the next day. Surely you remember that much.”

 

“Oh, I remember. I remember the day we married. And I remember the day we met.” She responds.

 

He, of course, looks confused.

 

“Yes, that’s what I...”

 

“Nope. We met long before our wedding.” A blank expression crosses his face as he struggles to grasp her meaning.

 

“What?”

 

“We met years before. I didn’t exactly expect you to remember me right off, I’d changed quite a lot. I did think it would come to you in time though. I suppose I didn’t leave much of an impression then, huh?” It had hurt a bit.

 

“What? No. You’re making this up to get back at me. There’s no way...”

 

“I swear it.” She promises simply.

 

“No. That's not possible. I would remember my own wife.” He guffaws, though only half-heartedly, no longer sure.

 

“I would have thought so too.” She remarks.

 

He looks stricken, and at that, she regrets doing this now.

 

“It’s fine, Gendry. It hardly matters now.”

 

“No. No. Tell me.” He’s sitting up in bed now, no sign of letting this go.

 

She’d just wanted to knock him off his high horse for once.

 

“Why? Look I shouldn’t have...”

 

“Arya?”

 

“I was only a little girl...”

 

_*Flashback*_

 

_Arya tiptoed, not wanting to frighten off the cat._

 

_Just one more step._

 

_The cat heard her, cried out, and ran off before she could quite grasp it._

 

_Damn!_

 

_This was the last cat. The very last one. She had to catch it._

 

_Off it ran, and she followed. Down into the sewers. Around and around she went, but the cat had disappeared. Upon hearing voices, Arya snuck into an alcove to hide._

 

_She couldn’t make out the voices, and was not stupid enough to poke her head out to get a better look. But she heard snippets of their conversation._

 

_They spoke of wolves, hands, bastards, and kings._

 

_What?!?_

 

_They were talking about her father. He was in danger._

 

_Off she ran, finding her way toward the light. The crevice was tight, but her small size meant she could squeeze through easily enough. Out she pushed until she was free. Though she had no idea where she was._

 

_It was beautiful here though. Another side of the castle she’d never explored. The waves crashed, and she retreated back towards the stone walls to keep from falling in. She walked carefully along the edge, hearing the crash of waves along the rocks. When she could see the shells along the bottom, she let herself wade through the water. The sharp edges cut her feet, but she was able to go much faster. She kept her eyes on her feet, careful of deeper spots. The closer she got to shore, the more people she saw. They washed clothes with ribbed boards while children splashed happily nearby._

 

_She’s up to her calves, her boots looking much cleaner than they had a moment ago. The smell from the sewers was clinging to her._

 

_“Oye!” She hears, and looks up._

 

_A man is looking over at her, amusement written all over his face. No, not quite a man. He was young. He was bare to the waist, dark hair, and bright blue eyes._

 

_“All right, boy?” He asks, chuckling._

 

_He was handsome. Since when did she think things like that. Never!_

 

_But for the first time in her life, she was ashamed of her boyish appearance._

 

_“Fuck off!” She replies loudly before scurrying back to the front gates, having to threaten the guards to regain entry._

 

_She had to warn her father, though about what exactly she could not say._

 

_*End Flashback*_

 

Gendry is only looking at her with mouth agape.

 

“You don’t remember?” She questions, feelings hurt all over again.

 

“That was you?!?” He exclaims mouth hanging open.

 

“So you do remember?”

 

“O’ course I remember! Are you kidding?”

 

She only shrugs.

 

“How could I forget?” He asks himself.

 

“It was a long time ago. I looked very different.” She rationalizes.

 

“I do remember. Every time after that, I would look for that boy, covered in shit, telling me to go fuck myself.” He chuckles.

 

“You did not.”

 

“I did so. Didn’t realize you were a girl, but...” He rubs his brow in disbelief. “Fuck.”

 

“Yeah.”

 

“I can’t believe...”

 

“There, see. We all forget things. Goodnight.” She kisses him on the cheek and rolls over. She feels him sit up, can practically hear the gears turning in his brain. Eventually, he slips his arms around her at lets himself relax.

 

“I love you.” He says sincerely.

 

“I love you.” She responds with just as much depth.

 

She’ll give his present tomorrow, the news will keep.

 


	2. The Urgent Letter

The Urgent Letter

 

Arya

 

“Excuse me, sorry to interrupt. There’s a letter. Urgent it seems.” The steward announces over breakfast, light hair flopping by his temples.

 

Gendry sighs painfully, focusing anew on his bacon.

 

He hated talk of duties more than most in his position. And he insisted upon all important matters waiting at least until after they’d broken their fast.

 

Of course, it was her decision, so he would just have to suck it up. She was infinitely more practical.

 

The sooner bad news was heard, the sooner it could be dealt with.

 

Arya reaches out to take the letter.

 

“It is addressed to Lord Baratheon.” The Steward clarifies.

 

Gendry groans louder and takes the letter reluctantly.

 

Now, Arya is quite curious. Perhaps Shireen had found a suitor. Maybe Kahlen’s bastard child had found employment. Or maybe Thoros merely wanted to thank his old friend for the recent hospitality.

 

Alanna usually ate with her tutor, getting an early start with her lessons. And Arya usually dealt with Northern matters late into the evening. They only saw each other in passing. The cold shoulder she’d received the night before was not novel, but it left an extra pang within her just the same.

 

Perhaps Arya could bring a few rolls to share at midday, give her a break from her studying. It would be an excuse to talk to her. Unless of course some emergency or another got in the way.

 

She’s pulled out of her thoughts by the sound of a knee knocking the table and glasses clinking.

 

Gendry is starting at the letter intently, hand clenched subconsciously, blue eyes all veined and wide.

 

“Gendry?” She prods, covering his larger fist with her own hand as a means of support.

 

“Stannis is sick.” He swallows, the lump clearly visible. “He’s dying.”

 

Oh.

 

“Oh, Gendry...” She soothes his wrist with her hands and he loosens his fingers to intertwine with hers.

 

“He’s been ill for some time. I don’t why Shireen didn’t say anything. She...” He looks so forlorn.

 

“Perhaps he told her not to. Or maybe she didn’t want to worry you.” Knowing there was nothing she could say.

 

“But I should know. She had no right to...”

 

“I know. But remember, this must be hard on her too. No one knows what to do in these situations.” At this he closes his eyes tightly. “Just don’t be too angry when you see them. Remember, it’s a hard time for everyone.” She wouldn’t know. She’d never had to deal with this. No one had warned her someone she loved was dying, no one had given her the chance to say goodbye. She’d had to visit the Underworld to see her family once more.

 

“See them? She said not to come. According to Shireen, he’s as good as dead. I might even be too late.” He reasons. “She doesn’t want me there.”

 

“She might say she doesn’t want you there, but she needs you.” Ugh, she really didn’t want to have to say this. “You’ll never forgive yourself if you don’t go. If you don’t try.” The thought of being without Gendry sat well with her not at all. “You’ll regret if for all your days.”

 

“Go? You think I should? I wasn’t invited.”

 

“First of all, you don’t need an invitation. Storm’s End belongs to you.”

 

“Still...”

 

“Why else would she write to you? She needs you. You have to go.” She reminds him gently.

 

At her words, he straightens.

 

“You’re not coming with me?” His frown is so deep it makes her gut clench.

 

“I can’t. You know I can’t leave Winterfell.” Won’t. “I have a responsibility. Winterfell must stay protected no matter what.”

 

“So, we’ll stay then.” He compromises. “I won’t go.”

 

“Gendry. This is _your_ duty. Whatever Stannis’ faults, he was like a father to you. We wouldn’t even be together without his interference.” She jokes. “He means something to you. You need to go. Even if it’s just to say goodbye.”

 

“I haven’t been without you for years.” There’s almost a panicked edge to his voice. It would be difficult on both ends. Their roots had so intertwined over the years, it seemed unthinkable for one to leave. “You know I can’t sleep without you.”

 

“It’ll only be a few days, a week at most. We’ve survived much worse.” Any elaboration was completely unnecessary. They both remembered the worse quite well.

 

“What about Alanna?” He puts his head in his hands.

 

“She’s never met Shireen. They’ll get along like a house on fire. And Stannis has always had a soft spot for her.” Except of course his rather pointed comment toward Arya. “I’m sure you’ll joke and tell scary stories. You won’t miss me at all.” She tries to smile, really she does.

 

“No. I’ll not take her out of Winterfell. She’s only 11. The King’s Road is much too dangerous.” Only 11. Funny. She had been but 9 when her entire life had been ripped away, not long after that she’d lost her own father.

 

“She’ll be safe with you.” And she truly meant that. He was the only one she trusted implicitly with their daughter. He was a wonderful father. What’s more, her daughter would rather be with him.

 

“No.” He’s so vehement she flinches. “Winterfell is where she’s safest. Besides, she can’t miss her studies for so long.”

 

She has to bite her lip to keep her eyes from rolling. Gendry was incredibly strict about their daughter’s lessons. He hadn’t had an education growing up and was determined his own daughter would have every opportunity. Of course, Arya agreed with him to a point, but he took it quite too far. Alanna was never allowed to miss a lesson or skip a subject. She must know **everything**.

 

Arya thought it a bit much at times. But it was so important to him she saw no real need to put her foot down. She ruled the North. But he had the last word when it came to Alanna. He had a much better understanding of such things.

 

Alanna wasn’t allowed to hold a sword until her first bleeding either. She disagreed on this too, but Alanna showed no interest, no passion for fighting anyway. And so far, there had been no real need.

 

“She might take that amiss.” Arya cautions. The thought of being alone with Alanna without Gendry to buffer put a fear in her she hadn’t felt in some time. Sometimes talking with her daughter felt like the verbal sparring matches at court. Her daughter would look for any opportunity to shut her down.

 

“Then so be it. I will gladly accept her wrath if it's for her own good.” He remarks.

 

She actually pffts out loud at this. Alanna was unable to hold any rancor where her father was concerned. He looks over, surprised.

 

“Arya, I know things between you have been a bit rocky lately.” Oh, so he’d noticed, had he. That was a shock.

 

“Let’s not talk about this now.” Or ever. She didn’t need his pity.

 

“She loves and worships you. You’re so much alike. I wish you could see that.” He insists.

 

Apart from the grey eyes, they were nothing alike.

 

“It’s just sometimes, you can be a bit...”

 

“Not now Gendry. Your recommendation can wait until you get back.”

 

“I just...” He pinches the bridge of his nose between his fingers. “Maybe you two could find some common ground while I’m gone? At least some good could come of this.”

 

She hadn’t managed it so far. Curse or not, her daughter strongly preferred her father’s company.

 

“And you can say goodbye to your uncle and support your cousin. They’re your family too. Please do this for yourself, if not for Stannis.”

 

He takes her and holds her close, agreeing with her words, hating to leave their little family even for so short a time.

 

“Alanna will not take this well.” He muses.

 

No, she would not. And she could imagine Alanna taking it out on her.

 

“I can handle it.” He brushes a strand of her hair behind her ear lovingly.

 

“I have no doubt.” He whispers into her hair. “I’ll miss you beyond measure.”

 

“And I you.” She responds.

 

Her news would have to wait another week more.


End file.
